The Consulting Detective of Hogwarts School
by ellie-hiddlebatch
Summary: John and Sherlock are going to Hogwarts. Sorry, the title will change when I get a good idea... Read and review please!
1. Chapter 1

I arrived at the platform at approximately 10:58 on the morning of September 1st, eager to attend my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rushing to get on before it went of without me, I hastily kissed my mother goodbye, waved to my father, and winked at my bored-looking sister and subsequently boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Struggling to find an empty compartment, I sat down in the first one I saw, which was occupied by a rather eccentric-haired boy that couldn't have been older than I was. He was reading one of his textbooks. He briefly looked up, looked up and down as if studying my appearance, and returned to his reading.

"Hello," I said, attempting to be friendly.

"Hi," he muttered, this time not looking up from his book. As I sat down, he compared the boy's height to my own. He was much taller than me, a good five or six inches.

"I'm John Watson," I said.

"Sherlock Holmes." He looked at me again. His eyes were blue- were they green? Gray? I couldn't, and still to this day can't, tell which color they were.

"Excited for school?"

"Not really." He stared at the page number in his book as if memorizing it, and looked me in the eye. "School is quite boring. You don't learn anything remotely useful. Anything interesting I can teach myself. In fact, I know that you're a muggle born who is eager to make friends and learn as much as possible about magic. Probably a Gryffindor, but possibly a Hufflepuff, whichever the hat so chooses. You've got a sister, and your parents are fighting, and you've been abused by one, probably the father." He shared his soliloquy within a single breath.

"How did you know that? That's incredible!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you weren't dressed peculiarly, at least, for muggles. You have muggle luggage tags on your trunk, but it's old, and pink. Clearly a sister's, especially because 'Harriet' is crossed out and 'John' is written in. Your bag is bursting with books, which seem to include things such as 'The Guide to Being Muggle-Born at Hogwarts' and 'A Brief History of the Magical World'. Which naturally means you're trying to fit in, and have friends. How did I know about your parents? They're probably going to get a divorce, if they're not already divorced, based on the fact that on your trunk 'Sheila Farris and Gregory Watson' is written, and muggle families normally take on the last name of their husband. There's a bruise on your cheek the size of a male hand, meaning that you've been hit by your father."

"That's what they fought about," I confessed. "Harriet told mum and so they're getting a divorce." I paused. "That's brilliant that you knew all that."

Sherlock smirked. "Thanks."

"So, I've heard a lot of things about Hogwarts, but they're all kind of nonsensical," I said. "Something about houses…"

"Yes, the Hogwarts Houses," Sherlock sighed. "There are four. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Members of each house possess and value different qualities. Gryffindors, the brave, the loyal Hufflepuffs, the logical Ravenclaws and the Slytherins, the ones who are ambitious and cunning."

"Cunning? Sounds pretty evil," I said. Sherlock sighed again.

"They're widely considered so." He looked upwards. "My brother's a Slytherin. Head boy. He said that he'd come at some point, but he doesn't quite like other people to talk to him, so he's probably not coming."

"Oh. Are you two close, then?"

"No."

"Oh." I stared out the window. "So, which house are you hoping for?"

"Ravenclaw. Matches my intellect."

"Ah. I've heard people say that Gryffindor is good, and that's what you said that I'd be."

"It's fine."

"Okay."

John frowned. "You… you don't say much, do you."

Sherlock shook his head.

"I presume you're pureblood, then," I said after a moment of silence.

Sherlock nodded. "Yep." He put the emphasis on the 'p'.

"Looks like we're close," I said. "Blimey." I admired the large, ancient castle, filled with odd towers and old stone that was worn, but in no way crumbling. A dark lake shimmered before it.

Sherlock and I left the train, greeted by a frail old woman carrying a lantern in her bony fingers. "First years, over here! Here, first years!" she said, her voice small, but comforting. We followed her, at the back of a string of other eager first years. "We're going to head to the Great Hall, so if you could just board the boats now, that's it," she said, climbing into the last one with Sherlock, another girl, and I.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Hudson. I'm the caretaker here. But remember, I'm not the housekeeper, so clean up after yourselves," she smiled.

"I'm Molly." The small girl sat up straight. "Molly Hooper."

"John Watson," I shared.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, as in Mycroft Holmes?"

"He's my brother," Sherlock scowled.

"Ah. Well, give him my congratulations, as I hear he's head boy."

"Will do," Sherlock said. He had a look in his eyes that assured anyone that knew him that he certainly wouldn't do that.

"And we're here!" Mrs. Hudson said, clapping her hands together. "Alright everyone!" she shouted, still fairly quiet, but loud enough that she could be heard. "Let me through, and we can head in." She clambered her way out of the small, wooden boat they were in and made her way to the castle. "Professor McGonagall," she called into the castle. "They're ready."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey y'all! So I've actually had this written for like 3 weeks but I forgot it at school so I'm finally publishing... sorry guys, but here it is! Enjoy!**

The Great Hall of Hogwarts School was illuminated by floating candles that (to my amazement) never dripped wax on any of the students. Professor McGonagall explained the sorting process briefly before we entered, but I needed nothing clarified, as the conversation between Sherlock and I mainly consisted of me asking questions and him answering them to the best of his ability.

The sorting hat was rugged, patched in odd places and leaning slightly to the left. The hat was hardly my first magical experience, but it felt like it. When it opened its brim, I stood in shock, staring at the hat that would decide my fate for the next seven years. It sang a quick melody explaining what each of the houses valued (which was my third explanation in the last hour). After a minute or two, the hat closed its mouth. Professor McGonagall pulled out a tattered scroll and began calling off students' names.

"Adler, Irene!"

A petite girl with wavy black hair approached the wobbly stool in the front of the school with confidence and determination.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted without hesitation. Irene smiled mischievously and sat down at a table of emerald green.

"Anderson, Phillip!"

The hat pondered Phillip's house for a moment. Sherlock sighed. "What?" I asked.

"I know Anderson, he's and idiot. If he gets sorted into Ravenclaw..." he muttered.

Luckily, Sherlock didn't have to worry, as the hat then shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" Phillip stood up and leisurely walked to the Hufflepuff table.

The hat cycled through a few more names until it came to the one I was awaiting.

"Holmes, Sherlock."

A few students audibly gasped for a reason I was unaware of. Sherlock, however, was oblivious to them while he approached the stool with arrogance. It was easy to tell when Sherlock agreed or disagreed with the tattered hat's reasoning simply by his facial expressions. After nearly ten minutes, the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" and Sherlock proudly sauntered to his seat.

Many names were called, all in a blur, until mine was called. I briskly walked to the stool, sat down, and the hat was gently placed upon my head.

"Ah..." the hat whispered, "very loyal, fiercely loyal... but courage is evident in you. Very evident indeed."

"So am I in Gryffindor, then? It's rather preferred... er, may I?" I asked it.

"Yes," the hat said, "because you had the courage to ask, and that's what I see in you, John Watson. GRYFFINDOR!"

I got up and moved to the Gryffindor table. I looked at Sherlock, who looked mildly disappointed. Suddenly, I was flooded with introductions.

"I'm Sally Donovan, second year."

"I'm A- I'm Mary Mortsan, pleasure."

"Gregory Lestrade, third year," said a black haired boy. "You're-"

"John Watson." I sat up and shook everyone's hands until a ting of a spoon hitting a glass drove everyone to silence.


End file.
